A Private View: the artful home of Robin Welch, the celebrated ceramicist who broke the mould

It’s the enveloping sense of warmth that hits you first: an inviting sweep of silver birch trees studding the gravel drive; the heat of an imposing stone hearth hugging you through the gabled porch and into a soulful, oak-adorned living room. Yet for all the charm of its exposed beams and whitewashed walls, it’s High House’s former owner – prestigious potter, painter and sculptor Robin Welch – who lends the property its richest aesthetic layer.

“His most distinctive textual pieces still punctuate almost every room,” Oliver Knowland, Robin’s friend and brother-in-law, says as my eyes rest on one of the artist’s signature sculptural vases in the hallway. “There’s no real distinction between the house and the barn, actually – the feel is the same, there’s a creative unity that runs through both spaces.”

Indeed, before his death in 2019, Robin lived and worked on the grounds of High House for more than five decades, blurring the boundaries of abstract expressionism inside the protective walls of his beloved pottery – an expansive series of light-filled studios and workshops adjacent to the farmhouse that still features Robin’s storied red-brick kiln, as well as a small curation of his artwork from the family’s private collection.

Today, the 17th-century barn is being utilised by an extended member of the family – Clark Broadwood-Smith, a talented contemporary sculptor sharing the same poured-concrete flooring that once bore Robin’s most notable pieces: the giant candlesticks crafted for Lincoln Cathedral, for instance, or the scorched cylinder sculptures still on display at the V&A.

“He used to have an enormous bench over there – a space to build up experimental pieces and glaze them,” Oliver explains as we stroll through the sun-soaked studios. “Upstairs was home to towering piles of notable art books, too – he would often disappear up there for hours during the firing process.”

Famed for his powerfully oversized cylindrical columns, it was Robin’s penchant for creating dramatically textured designs that became his signature; seared bands of burnt orange, red brick and coppery earth telegraphing a raw, rooted disposition. A three-year stint in Australia – where he helped Ian Sprague set up the Mungeribar Pottery in Victoria, in 1962 – undoubtedly influenced his individual aesthetic, but there’s a hint of Suffolk’s big-skies light in the artist’s more understated domestic ware, too.

Outside, Oliver warmly remembers how Robin diligently tended to the vegetable patch that remains here; how he often sought peace and inspiration on the banks of the freshwater pond; how he always strived to respect and replenish nature. It strikes me that High House is emblematic of Robin’s love of landscape; a space that champions acres of exposed oak, textured materials, and an honest, earthy palette.

Art, of course, feels as integral to the home as its roof or walls, every room offering up a statement vase, a hand-sketched portrait, an abstract canvas. A poem, framed and hung downstairs, was a gift from Robin’s father-in-law, while High House’s subtler pieces – elegant porcelain pots that dot the kitchen shelves – were shaped by Jenny, Robin’s wife.

“My sister Jenny was also a ceramicist. Together, they were a very creative couple,” Oliver offers as we admire the pantry’s bespoke joinery. “My mother bought High House for them in 1965. They’d just come back from Australia and Robin needed a space to work. Being artists, there wasn’t a huge amount of money for the renovations, of course, but once they moved in they completely transformed the place.

“Take this kitchen, for example,” he says, our eyes taking in its rustic spin on mid-century-modern carpentry. “It hasn’t been touched since they renovated in the 70s, but their intent was always to create a house that was timeless; a home that was crafted with character and quality. The hand-built mahogany and oak joinery, the brass-handle detailing: it still looks contemporary almost 50 years later.”

Later, Robin’s son Marcus feeds the log burner eucalyptus from the garden, and we flick through old black-and-white photographs taken of the original 16th-century farmhouse and agricultural barn – their stripped-back, functional bones protruding from a mired landscape. It’s hard to imagine how this stylish home – its rich, verdant setting quietly studded with Robin’s cylindrical forms and majestic oaks – rose from such humble beginnings.

“Dad was an incredibly hard worker,” Marcus explains. “My childhood memories of him are largely working in the pottery or outside in the garden. He would often invite students to help him with the domestic ware side of the business, so there was always this creative energy in the house – lots of people coming and going; everyone working on something experimental. He would spend most evenings – often until 11pm at night – building and throwing and firing; there was always a deadline to meet.”

Now, as this culturally significant property comes onto the market, Oliver finds himself reflecting on how Robin’s unique artistic sensibility helped to shape the house – and how, in turn, High House came to shape Robin.

“Robin was a quiet man; he expressed himself through his work,” he says, as we pass a magnificent cherry tree hand-planted by the late potter. “What I admired most about him was his deep respect for nature – and his ability to capture its beauty, wherever he was in the world.

“The Australian Outback, in particular, was a big source of inspiration for him – the colours, the textures, the light – so much of that influence can be seen in his art, but also throughout this house. The natural materials, the pared-back palette, the desire to repurpose and innovate: his work and High House are inextricably linked. He gave himself to the pottery here – and that passion has left an indelible mark.”